Anticipation
by thesilentlamb
Summary: The Doctor carries out a study on Sarah Jane - fluff. Grateful for reviews!


**Disclaimer – everything is owned by the BBC - nothing by me, sadly!**

**Anticipation**

The Doctor likes to experiment. He is a scientist by nature, an observer of behaviour. He is fascinated by different species; their eating habits, their clothes, they way they live and love and breathe and die. It is, after all, why he wanders the universe like he does, why he has chosen to spend his life amongst those that are alien to him.

But none captivate him in quite the same way humans do. Those insignificant beings from an insignificant planet who live their lives in the blink of an eye, a flash of emotions and recklessness and obsession with things that really shouldn't matter. He watches how passionately they fight for what they believe in and how they protect those people and things that are important to them. How they hurt themselves in the pursuit of pleasure and protect themselves at the cost of living their lives fully.

Above all he likes to watch them fall in love. Ever since those first two, Ian and Barbara, came into his life and in turns fascinated and delighted and bewildered and irritated him beyond all reason with their endless dance around each other, he has been utterly entranced by it all. He has never known another species to make such a long-winded affair about the whole thing, to hold back from each other when they so obviously don't want to.

Three regenerations and rather a lot of observation later he has finally had an epiphany. It's obvious really, but perhaps not to someone like himself who isn't (really, honestly) affected by such trifling feelings. It's because they _enjoy_ it. Humans, who really with their ridiculously short lives and even shorter reproductive spans ought to get their skates on and get on with it in his opinion, enjoy the anticipation. They enjoy the waiting and the chasing, and no matter how happy he has seen those few established couples he knows, he has never seen them quite so alive as they are in the few moments _before_ something happens.

So now he has his hypothesis.

But a hypothesis needs testing. The only problem is that his only available test subject, his current human friend, has thrown up a rather complicated variable in that he is having rather unscientific thoughts about her. Obviously this is simply because they are living in close proximity and no doubt having gone so long without a mate she is probably sending out all sorts of chemical signals. Still, he reasons with himself, science is never completely unbiased is it? He is clearly not being affected in any other way, he couldn't possibly be. It may of course affect his findings but he is sure that he can rise above any unruly feelings that may waylay his studies. And he can't very well kidnap another human simply for an experiment; the thought of it makes him shudder. He is not _that_ kind of scientist.

So Sarah Jane it will have to be.

He picks a moment when she is relaxed, drinking a cup of tea and leaning back on the console.

'I'm going to kiss you' he says, and is rewarded by a mouthful of tea narrowly missing his face as she chokes in surprise.

'Excuse me?'

'I'm going to kiss you' he repeats. That human habit of asking for something to be repeated when they heard perfectly well the first time; it's another thing he finds annoying and endearing at the same time. Well, when it comes to Sarah Jane it's usually the latter, but he pushes that thought aside.

'What, now?' The look of shock mixed with the tiniest amount of pleasure on her on her face makes him think for a moment, yes, _now_, but again he puts that thought away.

'No, not now. But I will, at some point.'

Sarah Jane is now, quite clearly, baffled. He'd better explain himself. It's only fair for the subject of an experiment to know what she's involved in after all.

'I'm studying the affects of anticipation, you see. You humans seem to be singularly affected by it rather more so than other species I've encountered. Fascinating, really.' He busies himself at the console as though that is that and the conversation is over.

Sarah Jane contemplates him, half offended, half intrigued.

'So you don't actually _want_ to kiss me?'

'I didn't say that now, did I?' the Doctor explains, as though speaking to a small child. 'More that the affects of the kiss will be heightened by you having to wait for it to happen.'

Sarah Jane can't quite formulate a reply to this but eventually finds her tongue.

'Did it occur to you I'd rather not be the subject of one of your little projects?'

'Well, yes of course it occurred to me. Which is precisely why I'm telling you. Would you rather not be involved? I'm sure I could find another human who wouldn't mind.'

Sarah Jane's schooled expression belies the internal battle being fought between her feminist side and the part of her that can't help but be curious about what it would be like to kiss the Doctor. For once her feminism backs down and she regards him thoughtfully.

'Anticipation?

He hums in assent.

She tries a different tact.

'What makes you think I _want_ you to kiss me?'

'Oh, I don't', he replies cheerfully. 'But now you're going to be thinking about it every time you look at me. Anticipation, you see? Fascinating'

Sarah Jane can't deny it. She sidles up to him and lowers her voice so he has to turn his head to hear her.

'Perhaps' she murmers, 'you'd better take notes on how it affects Time Lords too.' She moves past him to leave the console room and for a moment he is distracted by the scent of her hair.

That evening they are sitting in the TARDIS library. The Doctor is making repairs to his sonic screwdriver and Sarah Jane is attempting to read a book, but she cannot help stealing glances at him. In spite of her efforts to feel outraged by his presumptive behaviour earlier she keeps finding herself studying him, and _wondering_. His profile, the way his brow furrows slightly as he concentrates, and his lips. Oh, his lips. She's never really paid attention before, but now she'll be damned if she can think of anything else. Well, she won't give him the satisfaction. She snaps her book shut with a huff and gets up to go to bed. As the door shuts behind her the Doctor chuckles to himself.

Three days later they're in a tiny cupboard hiding from a group of six limbed, purpled skinned aliens insistent on adding them to their Queen's menagerie. The ceiling is low and the Doctor is forced to bow his head slightly. Sarah Jane is pressed up against him and she can feel his hearts pounding and his breath puffing on her cheek after the sprint they'd had to make it into the their hiding place. The Doctor can smell her hair and feel the rise and fall of her chest against his own. She looks up at him, her eyes wide with fear and exhilaration and something else he doesn't quite recognise. For a moment, just a moment, he contemplates ending the experiment there and then and he is almost certain that Sarah Jane would not protest but then the door flies open and they have more pressing matters to deal with.

After a week Sarah Jane is finding it almost unbearable. Every time the Doctor brushes past her she feels her breath hitch. When he touches her arm her heart starts to thunder and on the odd occasions he pulls her to him for a hug she feels like she might explode. She curses herself for her weakness but when he gives her that grin she can't think of anything other than how that mouth would feel pressed to hers. When she watches his big hands carry out repairs to the TARDIS she wonders how they would feel on her side, her face, in her hair. She's not even sure she wanted this a week ago, but now she knows it going to happen she is like a child staring at the presents under the Christmas tree, longing to open them but not quite wanting the excitement of waiting to be over.

She resolves to put it out of her mind. Perhaps he's forgotten his little experiment anyway.

The Doctor certainly hasn't forgotten. He is, however, seriously reconsidering it. His mind has been in overdrive and as he ducks behind a bush to escape their latest (newly acquired) enemy and pulls Sarah Jane in after him, his arm around her waist and her back pressed to his waistcoat, he finds himself once again enveloped in her scent and her warmth and makes a mental note to at least try and categorise some of what he is feeling for the sake of science. It's his own fault, but knowing that he will kiss Sarah Jane at some point has suddenly made him acutely aware of her presence. Has she no idea of the effect she has? Perhaps anticipation causes humans to emit surplus pheromones or something similar. That must be it, yes.

Despite the rapid fire of his mind, and the sensible conclusions he has drawn, he finds himself wrapping his other arm around her waist as her tired legs give out and they sink to the ground together. She lands in his lap and he feels her give a tiny shiver as his breath tickles her neck.

The time marches on, as much as can be measured in the TARDIS in any case. The Doctor and Sarah Jane continue this dance and it occurs to him one day that he is becoming the Ian to her Barbara and has unwittingly taken on this human habit of avoiding the unavoidable.

A week later they are rummaging through some files in the offices of a London company in the late 22nd century which has been conducting some suspiciously advanced research. It's Christmas Eve and they can hear the staff downstairs cheering and singing and the dull thud of the music reverberating through the floor. Sarah Jane is sitting on the floor in a tiny room surrounded by filing cabinets when she stumbles across something in a file that she doesn't understand. She goes to find the Doctor in the main office down the corridor.

He looks up as Sarah Jane comes through the door with the folder open in front of her, walking slowly as she reads the file and opening her mouth to speak;

'Doctor-' she begins;

The Doctor glances up at her and takes in the scene in front of him, processes it and comes to a decision almost instantly.

'Hold that thought' he answers as he crosses the room and carefully takes the folder from her, keeping her place with his thumb and depositing it still open on the desk behind him.

He turns back to her and she realises with a start that his hand is on her side, his huge palm covering her from rib to hip bone and that he has somehow drawn her nearer. Her eyes dart to his lips and then follow his gaze as he gives a pointed look at the doorframe above her head. There is a sprig of mistletoe hanging there and Sarah Jane, distracted by what she has been reading, takes a moment to put two and two together.

Oh.

_Oh._

She looks back at him and is suddenly very, very aware of how close he is. Her heart is pounding, her hands are trembling and her breathing has seemingly stopped and she suddenly realises his experiment has worked.

His hand cups her face, his thumb grazes her cheekbone and his fingers tangle in her hair. The hand on her hip slides to her back, pulling her in, and she just wants him to kiss her _now, _to end this torture of waiting. He leans in until his lips are a hair's breadth from hers when he stops and smiles.

'Anticipation' he whispers, 'fascinating.'

She has a moment to register that his hands are shaking too.

And his lips capture hers, and she concedes defeat.


End file.
